Scarred and Smiling
by Zombosity
Summary: POST TDKR. Gotham is weak, exposed; the Joker knows this. After Bane's reckoning and the loss of the Batman, the people of Gotham walk in the sun, believing the worst is behind them. But they're wrong... so very wrong... and he's about to remind them why. T at the moment, may change to M- Joker/OC/Crane.


_Hello everyone, this is my first 'TDK' fan fiction so any constructive criticism and/or praise is welcome as it really is a big help. Also, if you have any ideas for the story, question or queries, please leave them in a review or PM me if you'd prefer._

**_Hope you all enjoy, thanks for reading. Stay rad, and don't forget to review,_**

_**Z**__  
_

_**Disclaimer:** The Batman franchise belongs to DC comics, the Batman Begins/Dark knight films directed and adapted by Christopher Nolan, therefore all characters, trademarks, names and other Batman related indicia are the property of the parties previously mentioned and any other respective owners. This disclaimer is true for the whole of the fic and shall not be repeated._

* * *

'Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.'

_**Samuel Johnson**_

* * *

**_Prologue..._**

Mourning lingered in the bitter streets of Gotham, hanging over buildings like an invisible fog.

Dense rain beat down under thunderous clouds, booming and roaring across the skyline.

Before her, an endless sea of black umbrellas, bulbous and stretched, raised up in waiting; a broad valley of shadowed mountains, their tips like spears striking the air;

Is this what Gotham had become? Just another filthy basin for scum and corruption to breed and consume?

Her eyes glided over faces in the crowd. Every one of them scared and stinking of fear, hiding so many dark, greedy thoughts under their tensed brows.

But upon the podium, raised tall against the wind and the rain and the black void of empty stares, they could see only one face; hers.

Stray fingers, numb and cold, gently reached out to clutch her own. She watched the hand for a moment- the body it belonged to- and felt nothing from the comfort it sought to give. The familiar blue of their troubled eyes granting her no peace. Most days, feeling something was worse than nothing at all.

How had it come to this?

Each breath, each step towards the podium felt like three lifetimes passing, as if there were no world outside of this moment. Like the beat of a humming birds heart against her own; every action was slow and prolonged.

The crash of her heels upon the pooled concrete created vast ripples, expanding and rising until they toppled over the steps and washed away; again and again.

Today she would rise, tomorrow she would fall, just like the ripples in the water. There was no end in sight this time; no loop-holes or hidden doors.

A lone black umbrella shadowed her form, concealing her chilled body from the downpour but did little to hide the raw redness in her eyes. As she looked down, it was _her_ reflection in the water that walked alone before the dark heavens above.

It was too late; it was always too late to change things.

Lips to the microphone, she began to utter the words that would inevitably lead to her creation and her destruction,

"My father once said, 'All ends have a beginning'…

That we must come to terms with the idea that something's may never be final…

That the actions we make in this life, will live forever in another's…"

The sea of black figures moved, the rain pounding wilder and harsher,

"I am here today, not to commemorate my fathers end, but his beginning…

And to do that, I must first thank the one man who stood by him until his dying breath…"

Mouths started to chatter, murmurs spreading quicker than the common cold;

the _Batman_, they whispered, a damned mantra burning her ears,

"He taught my father to believe in this city again, to hope in its people, to look beneath all the hatred and violence; to defend those who could not protect themselves…

So I thank you for being here today, to celebrate the life and work of my father, Commissioner James. W. Gordon and to know that his faith, in this city, did not die with him…"

In the end, it was all lies, half-truths and fairy tales; there was no hope left for this city. Bane had ensured Gotham broke with finality in a collision of rubble and fire, and ash. To be damaged beyond repair.

Above the broken applause of clapping palms and the shattering sound of the rain, she glimpsed a single umbrella dropping from the masses.

It shifted and folded, to reveal a face; scarred and smiling.

A grip pulled at her arm from behind but she pushed the person aside, locking her gaze with the predatory pupils that stared, shining with laughter.

Holding up a hand, the street fell into silence once more.

All but a Glasgow-grin stilled. Scarred flesh that had twisted the happiness from her, like drawing poison from a wound.

The particles of air sizzled around her, like the crackling of wild electricity as she refrained from snarling at those black eyes gleaming up at her. Instead, she chose to linger on each word, so that he would know; that he would understand, for there was nothing left she had to lose,

"But lastly, to the man who calls himself the _Joker_, I say this;

I am _not_ my father…

I am _not_ the Batman…

I will succeed where they have failed;

... I will _burn_ you."

* * *

_**A/N**: _Okay, prologue done, now on with the story!

Which prompts me to say that on my profile I have introduced a section stating, although loosely, when I will be updating my stories and their current progress, which I will update as regularly as possible to keep you all informed. I hope this helps for any of you who wish to check it out.

Thanks again for reading and reviewing (if you did so) and I look forward to seeing your comments in the next chapter. Stay rad,

**_Z_**


End file.
